Twilight Hunter (The Execution Underground) (20 page)

“You’re pathetic, and your mommy issues are no excuse for killing and torturing women.”

He looked up from the floor and stared at her. “You’re right. None of that is my mother’s fault. I absolve her of all blame for my crimes.” He stood and marched toward her. “I do what I do because I enjoy it, all of my own accord.” He pulled out his knife again.

She cringed. All the muscles in her body tightened, preparing for the pain.

“I won’t bleed you dry just yet.”

She sucked in a deep breath.

“I’ll wait for when Frankie and Jace get here. But listen to me when I say no one...calls...me...pathetic.” He slashed his knife through the air and across her right cheekbone. A surge of power and energy shot through him, and he relished every drop of it.

Blood ran down her face as she screamed. The liquid trickled over her neck and onto her green shirt, staining the fabric a putrid brown. He stood back and marveled at the sight.

As casually as if he’d been talking to the cashier at a grocery store, he smiled. “I’ll be back soon. Enjoy.”

* * *

A
LARGE
HAND
clamped down on Thomas’s shoulder. The voice of the shadowed man echoed as he said, “You will not be limited by mortal bounds.” His voice filled the small clearing where they stood, the forest painted in blue hues as if the brush were made of the sky.

Thomas’s eyes widened. A light sparked in his irises, and a smirk spread across his face. “You mean I’ll be immortal?”

The shadowed man stepped in front of him. “Don’t overestimate your abilities. No one is immortal but the gods. You will age, but at a slow pace, and no minor wound will harm you, but make no mistake, your time will come. Like your father, someday you must pass down your power. You will choose when that time is. A respectful son shall wait until the time is right, just as you must wait now.”

“Like a respectful son...” Thomas looked up into the face of the shadowed man, who towered over him in his enormity. “What do I do now?” he asked.

“Go. Return to your rightful place at your father’s side. He will tell you when his time is up. Until then, learn what wisdom you can from him. Great power lies ahead of you.”

The shadowed man lifted his hand, and with the wave of his wrist the blue forest melted.

When the blue world had faded from his view, Thomas scanned his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a small backyard behind a small redbrick home. Inside, framed in a window, a middle-aged man stood at a kitchen sink, his hands buried in suds.

“Wait and learn
his
wisdom?” Thomas shook his head before he strode toward the house. He wrenched open the patio door and stepped inside, his boots tracking dirt onto the once-white linoleum. “Hey, Dad. I’m home.”

Thomas’s father glanced up from the dishes and smiled. “You’re later than I expected, Tom.” He set the plate he’d finished washing onto a towel along with the other cleaned dishes—three stacks of plates, several bowls, a single glass and some well-used silverware. He turned to the casserole dish in his hand and scrubbed at the leftover macaroni. “What were you up to? Your mom put some dinner for you in the fridge. The macaroni is in the yellow Tupperware container, and there’s some steak on a plate in there. It’s covered with tinfoil.”

Thomas walked to the fridge, keeping his eyes trained on his father. “I was just...uh...running late at work, Dad. We had an extra shipment come in.” He pulled the refrigerator door open and removed the covered steak. After unwrapping the aluminum foil, he shoved the plate into the microwave and hit start.

He scanned the room. His gaze paused on the block holding the steak knives. “Can you hand me a knife, Dad?”

“Sure.” His father reached over the counter, selecting one of the steak knives from the wooden block. Still facing the sink, he held the knife out behind him, and Thomas took it from his hand.

He clutched it in his palm as he stared at his father. The blade gleamed in the light. “Hey, Dad, I have something interesting to tell you....” He stepped forward.

“Yeah?” His father looked up from the dishes and saw, reflected in the window, his son standing over him. His eyes widened. “Tom, what are you—”

Tom met his gaze as he stabbed the knife into his father’s spine. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m sorry.”

* * *

J
ACE
’
S
EYES
SHOT
open as he woke from a deep sleep. He blinked several times and felt his heart pounding in his throat. Holy shit. Dreaming of his father killing his grandfather—a man Jace had never even met? Damn, he had too active an imagination. Besides, his mother had said his grandfather had died of old age before she and his father, Tom, had ever even met.

He didn’t need to be thinking about this shit.

His nightmares were freaky enough without delving into family drama. And damn, if that shit was true...no wonder he was as fucked up as he was.

He rolled over onto his back and glanced at Frankie. She lay sleeping beside him, hair sprawled over the pillowcase, fast asleep. He wanted to touch her. As much as he was angry with her, resented her for making him feel so much when she yielded so little, he couldn’t find the strength to detach himself completely, though he wished he could. She’d insisted she was a free woman and that she’d wanted to be with him. But he couldn’t afford to believe her. And yet... He could have moved into another room in the suite or ordered her to sleep elsewhere. But as he’d chugged Bushmills from the flask he’d refilled and she’d sipped from a second bottle, they’d settled together on the bed, neither talking nor touching. Sleep had finally claimed her, and he’d been content to watch her rest, to hear her breathe. Yeah. Maybe it was in his genes. A level of debauchery and selfishness that went bone deep.

Dear Lord, he had to try to shift tomorrow, and so far in his life he hadn’t so much as shifted even a single limb. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. If the nightmares in the early morning hours were any sign of what the day would be like, he was going to need a lot more whiskey.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

J
ACE
’
S
SKIN
CRAWLED
when he walked into K9’s the next day. In all his years of hunting, he’d never been as nervous as he was standing on the platform, a perfect training ground, with Frankie.

Him shifting? He cringed.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” he said.

Frankie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that easy, Jace. You’re not going to learn it in a few hours.”

“It seems simple enough for all of you. You do it within a matter of seconds,” he said.

She sighed and shook her head. “We’re full-blooded. It’ll be harder for you. And even we had to learn how.”

His face fell into a frown. “How long does it usually take to learn?”

She let out a long sigh, as if all her hopes were deflating like an old balloon. “Weeks. But we can’t afford that. You only have a few days.”

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. I may be good, but I’m not
that
good.”

She placed her hands on her hips, and a look that was pure attitude crossed her face. “Unless you want more women to die, you’ll shift and you’ll do it soon. We’re going to be working all our waking hours until you get this mastered.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you say so, teach.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. Are you ready?”

He shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“To start with, I want you to try and shift on your own. You won’t be able to, but do what feels natural. What would you start with?”

“Well, I’d start with taking off my clothes. I don’t want to rip my expensive threads.” He poked his finger through a hole in his coat.

“Okay, Casanova. Strip down, then.”

Jace shrugged off his coat and pulled his shirt over his head, then tossed them to the side.

* * *

F
RANKIE
’
S
EYES
WIDENED
. The memory of Jace’s arms flexing as he drove himself into her invaded her mind. Heat shot to her core. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. But the way his stomach tightened when he thrust into her... The thought lingered. She smiled and bit her lower lip, then snapped herself back to reality. “Now what would you do?” she finally managed to say.

“Get down on my hands and knees?”

She waved him forward. “Don’t ask me. Go ahead.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Jace knelt on the platform and lowered his weight onto his hands, then got off his knees and balanced on his toes. “All right,” he said. “This is all you’re getting out of me. You’ve got about three more seconds of this before I stand up again.”

She shook her head and sighed. “That’s all I needed to know. You can get up now.”

He stood and faced her. Her eyes drank in the lines of his body and the hard muscles disappearing under his jeans. She clenched her jaw and tried to focus.

“Okay. From that, I can tell that you’re what we’d call a crouched shifter. Basically, there are three methods of shifting. The first is to stand as tall as possible, usually with the spine arched back, and allow the energy to flow through you from the bottom up.” She straightened her back and imitated the pose.

“The second is to crouch down, like you did. You can drop into a deep knee-bend and arch your spine, or you can get all the way down on the ground. Crouching is common because it allows you to focus all your energy in one condensed space, and since you’re in a similar position to your animal form, it’s easier to transition. Then there are shifters who can switch in either stance, dual-shifters, but that takes a lot of practice. Only our best warriors can do that. So since you’re a crouched shifter, you’ll want to drop down rather than straightening when you’re trying to transition.”

Jace nodded. “Crouched shifter. Got it.”

“Okay. Now crouch down again. Whichever lowered stance feels comfortable.”

Jace bent his knees and arched forward like a large animal waiting to pounce.

“Channel your energy wherever it’s strongest. Focus on pushing all your energy there.”

He raised a single brow. “What energy?”

“What do you mean, ‘what energy’?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t feel any energy.”

She sighed and walked to his side. “Straighten up again.”

He rolled his shoulders back to stand at his full height, towering over her. The closeness of his body to hers sent a fresh wave of heat straight through her. “It’s the energy inside you. The kind you feel when the moon is full. That sort of stirring. Right here in your chest.” She placed her palm over his solar plexus. She looked up, and their eyes locked. She had to fight to get the words out. “It’s right here. It pulls at your whole being, like something connected to your soul.” She glanced at the floor. “Do you feel it?”

Jace placed his hand over hers. “Only when you touch me.”

She met his eyes again, and her breath caught. They stood in total stillness.

He stroked his thumb over the top of her hand. “I’m sorry your parents forced you into a relationship you didn’t want,” he said, barely above a whisper.

She swallowed, trying to find the ability to speak. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too.”

He kept staring, and Frankie wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She inched closer. He cleared his throat and stepped back. Her hand fell from his chest to hang limp at her side. Yeah, she was an idiot. Always rushing in, when he only rebuffed her at every opportunity
. Learn to take a hint, Frankie.

Jace cleared his throat again. “I can feel it when the moon is full. But I can’t feel it now. So since I can’t really feel it, how am I supposed to gather it?”

“You’re going to have to learn how to feel it.” Her palm tingled from where she’d touched his skin. Her arms didn’t feel right hanging at her sides, so she crossed them over her chest. She wanted to wrap them around him. Instead, she tightened them around her body, trying to hold herself together. “You’ve probably suppressed it so long that you can’t feel it anymore. Can you think back to the last time it was there?”

“When I hunt.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

He stared at the wall as if he didn’t want to look her in the face. “When I’m out hunting...well, you know.” He glanced at her to gauge her reaction.

“Werewolves? Our people?”

Jace frowned. “When I’m hunting, I can feel something stir inside me. Almost like an animal living under my skin. A beast.”

“That’s an interesting way to describe it. I’ve never heard anyone say that.”

“Well, that’s how it feels to me.”

“Is there any way we can simulate the feeling you get when you hunt?”

He squared his jaw and rubbed his temples in slow circles. “Not unless you bring Alejandro back in here and let me tear into him.”

“Aren’t you funny,” she said coldly. “What’s your problem with him, Jace?”

“I have a problem with any moron who thinks he’s a badass and God’s gift to women.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

Jace’s mouth drew into a tight line, but it soon curled into a smirk. “The difference is, I actually
am
God’s gift to women.”

Frankie rolled her eyes.

A moment of silence passed between them as he scanned the length of her body and her skin seemed to catch fire. He could caress her with one look.

“Come here,” he said.

Without thinking about what she was doing, Frankie shuffled forward a few inches, then stared into his eyes and froze.

He strolled across the platform and pulled her against his body. He laced his fingers through her hair, and a blush heated her cheeks.

“If you stand close to me, I might be able to shift.”

His grip on her tightened, and she could feel his erection push against the soft skin of her stomach. He leaned his face into hers, and she fought hard not to gasp as his lips lingered dangerously close to her ear. His warm breath danced over her skin.

“Just stay with me.”

* * *

A
LOUD
BANG
echoed through the air as Robert entered and slammed the door open. The sound of his own footsteps pounded in his ears, and he watched as his victim cringed. Anger coursed through him. He was sick of this. Where the fuck were they?

He growled at the pathetic girl. “Why the hell haven’t Frankie and Jace come running to rescue you yet?” Surely they knew she was missing, had found her ransacked apartment by now, hadn’t they? That had been a lucky break, finding her wallet in her backpack.

She remained silent, eyes cast down.

A grin spread across his face. He clenched his jaw and cracked his neck. He would refrain from killing her—for now. He would wait until the right moment. He wouldn’t lose control. “No matter. They’ll get here eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”

She tightened her lips, obviously fighting to keep her mouth shut.

“What’s wrong? Cat got the werewolf’s tongue?”

She stared at him, not saying anything.

He frowned. The whole situation grated on his nerves. “I’m finding very little enjoyment in this.”

“Then let me go.”

He laughed. This particular piece of female trash was even more ignorant than he expected. “Why would I do that, when I can just spice up the current situation?”

Her eyes widened as he unsheathed a new blade from his belt. It sparkled in the dim lighting.

“Silver.” He nearly purred as he ran a single finger over the hilt.

“Did you know that one of the most sensitive parts of the body,” he said, “is the collarbone?” He pointed the blade at her. “Answer me,” he growled.

“N-no. I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat, because you’re about to find out firsthand.” He smiled.

In seconds blood gushed from a gash on her collarbone, dangerously close to her major arteries. The iron stench of her blood filled the air as she screamed, and Robert relished the fragrance. He knew that with each shriek the pain in her neck increased, and his smile widened as she switched between screaming agony and silent suffering. Finally she fell silent and gasped in ragged, painful breaths.

“As you can see, I was correct about the collarbone,” he said. A grin spread across his face. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Makes you feel alive.” He paused and scanned the length of her body. His eyes traced over the blood, distracting him momentarily. He pulled himself back. There was more blood to be had.

“Did you know the clitoris has three times the amount of nerve endings as the entire head of a man’s penis?”

She let out a strained whimper.

“Answer me,” he said.

Tears poured down her face as she shook her head.

“You didn’t? Well, aren’t you lucky you have such a knowledgeable teacher? Be a good student and pay attention.” He placed the tip of the knife on the button of her jeans. “I have no interest in mutilating your feminine parts. I’ll need those for later.” His cock jerked at the thought of taking her cold, lifeless corpse.

“Please let me go,” she begged. “I’ve never done anything to you. Please.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Let me go, you sick bastard!”

“Mind your manners,” he growled, and pressed the flat of the blade to the skin of her forearm. When she didn’t react, he pulled the weapon back, looked at it curiously, then laid it on her skin again. His eyes narrowed into thin slits. “What’s this? A werewolf not affected by silver?”

Her head hung from her neck like a broken limb. He placed the dull surface of the knife under her chin and lifted her head, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“What are you?”

“I’m nothing. I’m just human.” She held eye contact.

He slapped her across the face. Her head jerked to the side, and he admired the red mark that marred her cheek. “You can’t be a human. The werewolves wouldn’t have anything to do with you.” He scanned her up and down as if she were some newly discovered species. “You’re not a regular werewolf, and you aren’t a Berserker....”

“A what?”

He ignored her and continued. “So what are you?”

She didn’t respond.

“I asked you a question.”

She bit her lower lip and shook her head no.

“Have it your way.” He sheathed the blade again. He crossed the room and retrieved a coil of rope, then removed a key from his pocket. She struggled against her shackles. Without a word, he grabbed hold of her feet and wrapped the rope around her ankles, binding her legs together. Then he unlocked the shackles.

She toppled to the ground in a pathetic heap. He grabbed both her wrists in one hand and bound those, as well.

He stared at the pinkish-colored rash ringing them, where the iron had begun to...eat away at her skin? “What’s this?” he said, lifting her wrists into the light of the single bulb overhead. He clutched her by the upper arms and shook her hard. She flopped in his grasp like dead weight. He threw her back onto the floor. Her back hit the concrete hard, and her curls spilled into her face.

“What are those?” He shoved her head to one side, smashing her cheek into the floor. His fingertips ran over the top edge of her ear. “Pointed ears.”

She panted like a distressed dog until he released her. She writhed until she slowly inched away from him.

“A faerie.” A devilish grin spread across his face as he made a tsking noise with his tongue. A more interesting victim than he’d thought. A rush of glee overcame him. “This is going to be interesting.”